


Seeing Stars

by mangochi



Series: Almost Human Prompts [4]
Category: Almost Human
Genre: Caretaking, Established Relationship, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Pain Medication, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-18
Updated: 2014-01-18
Packaged: 2018-01-09 03:11:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1140745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mangochi/pseuds/mangochi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's a bit loopy from painkillers, and Dorian suffers through the consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seeing Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Short and fluffy huh? Well I adore Dorian taking care of John, how about John has to have a tooth pulled and Dorian waits for him to take him home, and John is all loopy (and utterly kissable and helpless) from the pain medication!!
> 
>  
> 
> I feel like John on drugs is the equivalent of a five-year-old.

“He’ll need to stay on fluids until the meds wear off,” the nurse is saying, and Dorian tries to concentrate as John makes a loud noise of immense displeasure from beside her. The nurse has a steel grip on his arm and wears the expression of a person who’s seen more than her fair share of recalcitrant patients, smacking away John’s hand unflinchingly as he attempts to shake her off.

“Look, lady,” John then proceeds to complain, his words slurring together from his swollen jaw. “M’fine. I’m good, I’m great, I’m grrrrreat.”

“Yes, Detective Kennex,” she says automatically, then redirects her attention to Dorian. “I’d normally give him a couple of hours, but with the dosage we had to give _this_ one,” she bestows an exasperated glance at John, “I’d estimate four hours at least before it’s all out of his system.”

“Dorian, t’hell you doing here?” John demands, seemingly noticing Dorian for the first time in the twenty minutes he’s been standing there. He squints at him with genuine confusion, eyes sliding in and out of focus.

The left side of John’s face is a mess of puffy flesh and faint discoloration from the whack he’d taken across the face from the perp’s crowbar. Dorian opted to find the tooth knocked out by the blow as John took the perp down, spitting mad and dribbling blood menacingly. He didn’t think now was the right time to present him with it, though.

“I can take him from here, miss,” he tells the nurse politely, reaching for John’s other arm.

“Watch his head,” she says, and Dorian gingerly pulls John over. John, predictably, manages to make a proper scene of it, groaning and huffing until he ends up lolling against Dorian’s side, chin propped on his shoulder and glaring petulantly at the nurse.

“You’re mean,” he remarks matter-of-factly, the childish words sounding bizarre in his gravelly voice, and Dorian suppresses a grin as the nurse ignores him and hands over an orange prescription bottle.

“Two of those every six hours,” she instructs. “Remember, no solids-”

John’s drooling a little on him now, and Dorian’s beginning to find it hard to focus. He gently pushes John’s head off his shoulder and tightens his grip on the man’s arm when he begins to sway alarmingly.

“Yes, ma’am.”

….

John’s surprisingly docile as Dorian maneuvers him into the passenger seat of the car, reaching over and buckling him in when the man doesn’t do anything other than stare around suspiciously.

“You’ve got realllly blue eyes, man. I ever….I ever tell you that?”

“No, you haven’t. That’s nice of you, though.”

“I like blue…” John mumbles, then grabs at Dorian’s arm when he starts to straighten. “Where’re you goin’?”

“The other side. I’m driving you home.”

“Nooooo…”

“John, you can’t go back to work like this. You’ll be a laughingstock.” He shuts the door on John’s delirious reply and slides into the driver’s seat with a satisfied sigh before reversing out of the lot smoothly, making a course for John’s apartment.

They’ve been on the freeway for no less than five minutes when John decides to start acting up, his hand wandering across the space between them to poke at Dorian’s side and grope loopily at his thigh. Dorian is able to ignore most of his efforts, until one fortuitous grab manages to find its way between his legs.

Dorian sighs and reaches down with one hand to return the wandering appendage back to John’s side, pressing it firmly to the seat. John utters a heavy sigh, expressing his evident boredom with all the eloquency of a young child, and Dorian almost breaks out into laughter.

“Hey, John,” he says evenly instead, trying to keep his face under control. “Remember that time I asked you what your type was?”

“Whaaa?”

“Type, John. What type of women you like.”

“Don’t like women,” John grumbles, slumping in his seat. “Don’t like men, either,” he adds, after a moment of semi-serious consideration. “They’re all assholes. Paul’s an asshole.”

“Yeah. Yeah, he is,” Dorian agrees amiably. “So who do you like, then?”

John squints his eyes until they’re barely slits, turning his head to regard Dorian with suspicion. “Why d’you ask?”

“Just curious.”

John, apparently dissatisfied with the answer, tries to open his mouth too fast and winces. “Dammit.”

“Don’t do that, you’ll pull out your stitches,” Dorian says, reaching over and tapping John’s mouth closed carefully. “Just sit still.”

“You ass,” John mutters, propping his foot up on the dashboard sulkily and glaring at it. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do,” John insists loudly. “I hate you so much.”

“Mmm, that’s not what I’m hearing.” Dorian’s hearing something else instead, something John would never say sober, and maybe this is the closest he’s ever going to get. “That’s not what you were implying last night.” That was a good night, he remembers now fondly. John was sweeter than usual, laving his chest and shoulders with possessive kisses despite Dorian not requiring that kind of stimulation. He held up his own, of course, easily reducing John to a trembling heap by the time-

Then John slaps at him, a floppy smack on the arm with little force or willpower behind it, and Dorian struggles again to rein in his laughter.

“Don’t laugh at me,” John mumbles, missing drastically when he tries to hit Dorian again, and Dorian’s shoulders begin to shake. John’s not a laughable man, or at least, he doesn’t think he is, but only around him does Dorian ever find himself in this sort of dilemma.

“John, stop, I’m driving,” he chuckles.

“Then stop.”

“I can’t, we’re almost there.”

“Doriiaaannn.”

“John, please stop that.” He wonders if this is what he’s like when he’s low on charge.

“Dorian.” John’s voice is suddenly serious, and for a moment, he sounds back to normal.

They’re two minutes from John’s apartment. Dorian glances over distractedly. “What?”

“Dorian, I love you.”

It’s time like this that Dorian’s glad he’s not a flesh-and-blood human, or he thinks he may have very well wrecked the car at that point. As it is, he only continues driving, but his sensors are flickering erratically at the edges and he thinks he’s squeezing the wheel too tightly.

John has thankfully fallen silent, slumped against the window moodily when Dorian doesn’t immediately respond. They manage to arrive at John’s apartment in more or less one piece, and Dorian can only feel relieved as he pulls into a parking space.

The medication’s finally knocked John out, and his face is pressed against the glass at an uncomfortable angle, the collar of his jacket sticking up crookedly around his chin. Dorian realizes he’s staring, but he doesn’t quite look away just yet. He files the visual away in his memory files, then reaches out carefully and files away the feeling of John’s skin beneath his fingertips as well.

“John,” he says softly, probing lightly at the swollen area on John’s jaw. “John, we’re here.”

“Grnnnngngnh,” John complains, cracking an eye open. He appears to be reaching a higher state of lucidity, his gaze not as dazed as it was before. “.....rian?”

“I’m here.” Dorian brushes the corner of John’s mouth with his thumb and can’t help smiling at the confused stare he receives in return. “Come on, let’s go up. I’ll run you a bath.”

“I meant it,” John says, ignoring Dorian completely. He fumbles for Dorian’s hand, wrapping his fingers around his wrist and keeping Dorian’s palm against his face. “Meant what I said.”

Dorian stares at him and contemplates lingering just a second longer. He swallows and leans in closer. “What part?”

“When I said…” John trails off, and he shakes his head. “Dammit,” he says blurrily. “Can’t remember.”

Dorian can only categorize the emotion he’s feeling now as irritation. “I don’t like you when you’re high,” he informs his bewildered partner. Well, it’s not as if it matters, he thinks dryly. He’ll just have to make John remember, is all. With that cheering thought in mind, he moves forward the last few inches and kisses John.

The kiss tastes of copper and a medicinal bitterness that Dorian decides he doesn’t really mind. John makes a quizzical noise, but he doesn’t resist when Dorian flicks his tongue at the seam of John’s lips just the way they both like it. His mouth falls open, and it’s moments like this that Dorian truly feels completely human, as he breathes in John’s soft gasps and pants and feels the heat pooling in the empty center of his chest.

John’s flushed and his eyes are glazed with something more than the painkillers in his system when Dorian pulls back. His face is lopsided and bruised, jaw slack and streaked with dried blood where the medics missed with the swabs, and Dorian thinks he’s beautiful.

“Get back here,” John commands peevishly, when Dorian just looks at him.

“Later, Mr. Happy.” Dorian grins and lets himself out of the car. “I wasn’t kidding about that bath,” he adds as he opens John’s door.

“I wasn’t kidding, either,” John says, frowning up at him, and this time Dorian keeps his smile to himself. He records the moment for posterity’s sake, until John can say it to him again.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Lol, I suck at writing short pieces, I’m always wanting to write more, but I’m trying to keep these fluff prompts in less than 2K.
> 
> -whispers-this is quite irrelevant, but how does anyone feel about a Dorian sexbot AU, because I FEEL IT IN MY BONES


End file.
